


A Dialogue in Glances and Touches

by wyntreaurora



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M, No Dialogue, Nothing explicit, plenty implied, rated m to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-10
Updated: 2010-06-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 00:09:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntreaurora/pseuds/wyntreaurora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing had been acknowledged in words...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dialogue in Glances and Touches

Nothing had been acknowledged in words. What she had considered to be plausible deniability, he had considered discretion, and logical discretion at that. 

Initially it had been puzzled looks across the lecture room hall when one or the other realized they had been the primary focus of the other for a length of time. Unnoticeable by anyone else but clearly registered by the two of them. 

Later, in the privacy of his office when she became his assistant, it ceased to be staring of the appraising and questioning sorts and turned into their own set of communicative glances. Anyone that might wander in would think nothing of these glances, but the looks she gave him he found smoldering, and the looks he gave her made her feel beautiful and shy at the same time. No one had ever looked at either of them the way they looked at each other, and neither of them knew quite what to do with or about them. 

If either of them had any doubts and thought that they were imagining what they were seeing from the other, all of that was rendered void the first time their fingers brushed as he took a PADD from her that she had finished grading. The spark in that briefest of brief touches that shot through them both was so overwhelming that neither spoke to each other for the rest of their time in his office, both afraid their voices would betray them or words would come tumbling out and completely ruin this safe little world they had so carefully constructed for themselves. This rendered the tension in the room so thick that they both left early – him to hopefully spend a few minutes meditating to regain his inner control before his next lecture, her to the track to hopefully run off some of this tension and clear her head. 

It continued this way for months, stolen glances across lecture halls, heated looks over PADDs in his office, shared meals together in the mess hall that never consisted of anything other than conversations regarding the latest in subspace research, his students or her latest additions to her thesis, all spoken in Standard so there could be no chance of someone making any accusations at all. The touching, though still appearing to be nothing more than common finger brushes, increased when they were in his office, still solely of his doing, as she knew of the cultural “rules” regarding touching hands and the partial touch-telepathy he should be at least partially prone to due to his mixed heritage. The fact that he was the one initiating it made her smile whenever she was alone and thought back on those times. 

But no words were ever spoken regarding any of the touches, glances, shared meals, or walks back to her dorm when they lost all track of time buried in grading papers or research and she missed curfew. It was completely logical in those moments that he walked her all the way back to her dorm so that she would not be reprimanded if she were to ever run into any other superior officers. 

No words spoken, and yet somehow the day winter break began they both found themselves walking away from campus in the same direction. Even though most of the cadets had already left for their various break destinations and the majority of the instructors and officers were holed up in their offices finishing their grading, they both seemed to be cognizant of the fact that discretion and deniability were still needed and with simply a nod that would be deemed a passing acknowledging ‘hello,’ she quickened her steps as he slowed his, putting enough distance between them that no one would suspect them of heading to the same place unless and until they saw him join her in a small booth for two in the back corner of the coffee shop a little over a mile from campus. 

Neither truly knew of course that was where the other was heading until he saw her step through the door of his favorite off campus establishment. He quickened his pace at that moment, and entered just in time to see her exchange a smile with the female barista and give an affirmative nod to the inquiry of “The usual?” Already overwhelmed by his emotions for her, he found himself feeling amusement and irony at the fact that this must also be a favorite place of hers if she frequented it enough to have a ‘usual.’ 

He ordered their cinnamon blend coffee, black, not his usual, which made the female barista look over in surprise as she slid the extra mocha soy latte across the counter to the woman whose soul his gaze was piercing currently. As the barista followed his gaze to one of her favorite customers, suddenly so much made sense to her about the bits and pieces of the conversations she had overheard of their individual conversations over the last few months. She had never seen them together in there before, but it made perfect sense. She smiled warmly at him as she called back the order since it was different from his norm, not knowing that she was the only person who knew about the two of them now. 

She was already sitting at the small booth in the back corner, back to the wall, her typical seat to be able to observe everything else going on around her, as he made his way to her, again noticing the feelings of irony and amusement that she was occupying the seat he normally did. He glanced around quickly to make sure there was no one from the academy before sitting down opposite of her. 

He had ordered the cinnamon on purpose today. Cinnamon was not a stimulant like chocolate, but it instead it acted like an amplifier, enhancing the things he felt, the things his senses observed. He was unsure as to why, but today he wanted to feel more than he already was, and when he had heard the barista call out her order, he was glad – the smell of the extra chocolate in her drink alone would help him to be a little more…expressive. 

She had never been the one to initiate the touching, and he knew she never would without express permission, so he purposefully held his cup in only his right hand and laid his left down on the table where the tips of his fingers would brush down her knuckles as she cradled her cup in both her hands. When she looked up at the jolt of electricity that passed between them, he gazed intensely into her sepia eyes, his bistre ones flaming as he tried to communicate to her that it was indeed ok for her to touch him. 

What he had not counted on was that she would understand and take him up on his offer immediately. Her right hand let go of her cup and she slid it next to his on the table, her thumb against his pinky. She gave them both a minute to adjust to the new sensation and to allow him to put up any shields he might want to, and then she slowly started to stroke her thumb across his hand. 

He nearly hissed at the contact, but instead took a hurried drink of his coffee, anxious to have more of the spice in his system further enhancing the wondrous feelings she was creating. 

They stared at one another, each breathing deeply to try and keep control of the torrent of emotions and physiological responses occurring within themselves, occasionally sipping at their respective drinks. 

She knew what she wanted to do, but she also knew to wait until he had finished his drink so that in case he lost control there would be no contents to spill from his cup. Finally he set down the cup, and for the first time in nearly a half hour closed his eyes as he inhaled. This was her moment. She might look back in the long run and wonder if surprising him was the best course of action in that exact moment, but all that mattered was the here and now, and her curiosity had finally won out. She had to know. 

With his eyes still closed she moved her right hand completely over his left, gripped it, and as his eyes shot open in shock, she quickly turned it over and laid her hand palm down over his fingers, her fingertips grazing his palm. It could be dangerous, she knew, there might be consequences, but she was fully willing to accept those consequences if it meant that for just a brief second she could touch his full hand and know which one of her dreams it matched – rough and strong, or smooth and gentle. 

She barely was able to notice that it was a combination of both, a feeling that shot straight to her head and was nearly intoxicating when suddenly his hand disappeared from hers. She had no time to even wonder if he was going to berate her for her impertinence or simply just leave, because suddenly she found herself being drawn up out of her seat by the same strong hand she had just touched a moment before, wrapped around her forearm. 

He was not rough, and no one watching would think anything more than he was simply providing her help to stand, but she knew from the way he was touching her, the speed with which he moved, and the burning look in his eyes that she was to follow him. And follow him she would, to the ends of the earth if he led her there. 

As soon as she was standing on her own two feet he let go of her arm and motioned with his head, a nod imperceptible to anyone else, towards the back entrance of the coffee shop, one rarely used by anyone but the staff and a few of the veteran regulars. It exited into an alley that led to a series of back alleys and streets where no one would see them until they reached their destination, though she had no idea where it was they were going at the moment. 

Once out of sight of anyone that might step outside that same door, he actually reached down and took her hand, folding his fingers into hers, willing himself to get to his intended destination before he lost all control and gave into the fire that was now burning in him. He left up the shields necessary to keep her from sensing anything other than his urgency, which encouraged her to keep up with his slightly more rapid pace. 

They rounded one final corner and she realized they were approaching the backside of a small villa, and he was clearly heading for the door. He let go of her hand long enough to press his palm to the security panel beside the door, and when the light turned green he gave one last quick glance, then turned and literally swept her off her feet before carrying her inside. 

He paused only long enough once inside to set her down and key in the strongest lock code he had. In that short time she was able to glance around and see that the place was nearly bare of furniture and looked very unlived in. Her brain was just registering the idea of it being a sanctuary of sorts for him when she found herself lifted off her feet once more and in his arms. 

His eyes locked onto hers and she was completely unaware of her surroundings until he placed her gently on a bed, the first time he slowed down since their rapid departure from the coffee shop. 

Eyes never leaving hers he sank down onto the bed beside her, each of his large hands twining with her delicate ones, as he rolled to his side, pulling her body to mirror hers. When he brought each of her hands up to his lips to kiss each of her knuckles it was his final undoing. He closed his eyes briefly to attempt to regain some sort of control, but when he opened them they simply begged her for permission to continue down the path they were already started down. Again, later she might look back and wonder ‘what if?’ about this moment, but she knew what she had to do, what she had to communicate, and since she couldn’t trust her voice, she let her lips do the talking as she nodded and leaned forward, kissing him as passionately as she could convey with her hands still tangled in his. 

That was all the encouragement he needed. Suddenly his lips and hands were everywhere on her body and her clothing was not. With his hands occupied with providing her a most exquisite sense of pleasure, hers quickly found tasks of their own, and he was noticing her lips and hands gliding over skin that had only moments before been covered with his dark grey instructor uniform. 

The first and only intelligible words they spoke to each other came as he finally sank into her, whispering “Nyota” in her native Swahili, and she met his initial movements gasping “S’chn T’gai” in his native Vulcan, before they both succumbed to their passions and allowed the world to finally right itself as they came together, once more crying out each other’s name…

**Author's Note:**

> This was beta'd by the amazing SQ


End file.
